


but for you this place is shame

by bisexualfpjones



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: M/M, but also... everything i say is more canon than whatever bullshit ras has to say so, had to get this out before the flashback incase this turns out to be a bunch of lies, pre-serpent fp just for timeline reference, tho in my mind it did not last for too long after this fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-05
Updated: 2018-11-05
Packaged: 2019-08-19 11:47:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16534016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bisexualfpjones/pseuds/bisexualfpjones
Summary: “How come you never invite me over to your house?”FP whipped his head around from his spot on the floor of the Andrews’ basement where he had been absentmindedly fiddling with Fred’s guitar while Fred worked on homework on the couch behind him. It wasn’t the first time Fred had posed this specific question. They had been friends (that was the easiest label, anyway) for two years now, and the topic had been coming up more and more frequently, but usually it came with a little forewarning. This was completely out of the blue.“Where did that come from?”





	but for you this place is shame

**Author's Note:**

> the flashback episode is sure to be ugly but fp supposedly hiding his south side roots is nice in theory and i had some thoughts so... here we go. also shout out to julia cuz she either gave me the idea of fp directing fred to a fake house or i came up with it and we just talked about it... i just owe her many shout outs in general cuz she's the best lmao
> 
> title of this fic from always gold by radical face

“How come you never invite me over to your house?”

FP whipped his head around from his spot on the floor of the Andrews’ basement where he had been absentmindedly fiddling with Fred’s guitar while Fred worked on homework on the couch behind him. It wasn’t the first time Fred had posed this specific question. They had been friends (that was the easiest label, anyway) for two years now, and the topic had been coming up more and more frequently, but usually it came with a little forewarning. This was completely out of the blue. 

“Where did that come from?”

Fred closed his textbook and set it off to the side before turning his attention back to FP, shrugging his shoulders. “I don’t know. It’s just… don’t you think it’s a little weird that we’ve been friends for a while now and I have no idea where you even live? It’s like there’s this whole side of you I don’t know about. I don’t even know anything about your family-”

“You don’t want to know anything about my family,” FP cut him off, jaw ground tight. He watched Fred’s eyes go big and he had to will himself to relax. The Jones family wasn’t exactly a pleasant topic of discussion, but FP had to remind himself Fred didn’t know that.

“Well what does that mean?” Fred’s voice was softer, laced with concern.

FP pulled his knees up to his chest, resting his elbows on them as he ran his hands over his face trying to figure out how best to keep the charade going. He decided maybe it was better to go with half-truths. Seemed less conspicuous. “Look, my family… isn’t like yours. Things are a lot more complicated. The less you know, the better. Trust me.”

A moment of silence passed between the two boys, a newfound tension lingering in the air. Then Fred whispered “You’re not, like, embarrassed of me, are you?”

FP turned around so fast he almost gave himself whiplash. His whole body was facing Fred now and he was on his knees so their faces were level. He reached one hand out to grab hold of Fred’s knee and used the other to tilt Fred’s chin so that they could look at one another. “Woah, hey, of course I’m not embarrassed of you, Freddie.”

On a deeper level Fred had already known that to be true. There was just a part of him that needed to hear it. He swallowed and nodded his head, trying to shake off any remaining doubt. “No, I know.” He reached out to cup FP’s cheek. “It was a stupid question. I’m sorry.”

FP shut his eyes and groaned, leaning into the other boy’s touch before dropping his head onto Fred’s lap. “You shouldn’t be the one apologizing.” His words came out muffled due to his face being pressed against Fred’s thigh, but Fred seemed to hear him anyway based on the fingers that were now running softly through his hair. He tilted his face up just enough to meet Fred’s eyes. “I’m sorry.”

A sudden wave of guilt washed over Fred. Maybe it was because of his previous accusation, or maybe it was because of how broken and tormented FP looked staring up at him from his spot on the floor. He supposed it might’ve been both. Either way, he found himself sliding down next to his best friend, reaching over FP’s lap to retrieve the discarded guitar. 

“Tell you what, how about we pretend the last ten minutes never happened, and instead you can play me a song or two and maybe we can fool around after.” Fred raised a suggestive brow, trying to break the tension. He knew it worked when FP chuckled.

“You’re such a groupie, you know that?” FP took the guitar anyway.

“Don’t act like I’m the only one.”

\--

It was a Friday when the topic was brought up again. 

Fred and FP had just finished having dinner at Pop’s and were stuck in the doorway watching as heavy rainfall struck the windows in front of them. Well, they weren’t exactly stuck. Fred had driven his dad’s truck so technically…

“You know I could just drive you home?”

“Fred…” FP did nothing to hide his exhaustion for this topic in his voice.

Fred held his hands up in defense. “I know, I know, but come on, F. It’s raining cats and dogs out there and it’s already getting late. I’m not asking you to invite me in for tea with your family. Just let me drop you home so you don’t get soaked and catch pneumonia and die.”

“You’re very dramatic, you know that?”

Fred smiled innocently and shrugged. 

As much as FP hated to admit it, Fred had a point. The weather was nasty and didn’t look to be letting up any time soon. Of course, there was no way FP was coming out of this night completely dry anyway. This entire problem would have normally been solved by FP just sleeping over at the Andrews’, but FP had already slept over three times that week and he could tell Artie’s hospitality was wearing thin even if he’d never vocalize it (not in front of Bunny, anyway), so there went that plan. The only two options he saw left were; 1. Refuse Fred’s ride and stay put at Pop’s until the storm passed or 2. He could just accept the ride, make Fred drop him off at some random house, then sneak on off back to the South Side.

FP supposed, somewhere in the back of his mind, that were was the third option of just telling Fred the truth, but…

“Fine, whatever. You can drop me home.”

Fred smiled triumphantly and extended his arm out, gesturing for FP to lead the way out to the truck. FP looked out into the rain and sighed, immediately regretting his decision as he pulled his jacket up over his head and hunched in on himself so he could run out into the storm and avoid getting as wet as possible.

They drove around for about ten minutes or so with FP not having a clear destination in mind. “Take a right here” “Take a left there” he would instruct on occasion, but FP had no idea where he was supposed to stop. He figured he just needed a house that looked empty enough, but without a ‘for sale’ sign on the front lawn. And it needed to look believable. Nothing too fancy. 

“Stop up here.” They had been coming up on a respectable two story white house and FP decided that was the one, pointing it out to Fred. It seemed every bit like the kind of house he’d dreamed of living in when his mind got to wandering about where he’d be in life if he was born to a different last name. If he had a father who didn’t split his time between drinking himself stupid and berating his son for every move he made. If he had a mother who was still alive to get him out of this hell. He could too easily picture some alternate universe version of himself running around the front yard, playing catch with his old man, fucking around in the sprinklers during summer, whatever the hell kids did in suburbia. 

There were no cars in the driveway, hopefully signaling no one would be home to catch the strange truck stopping out front to let out the strange boy onto their lawn. FP stared out the window, nervously chewing on the skin around his thumbnail as Fred pulled to a stop.

“Your house looks nice,” Fred commented from the driver’s seat, pressing up against the steering wheel so he could get a better look beyond FP who just hummed his response. Fred couldn’t see much with it being so dark and stormy, but he was sure in the light of the day he’d be proven right. Besides, it was the polite thing to say anyway.

“Home sweet home,” FP sighed as he looked out the window. He tried to ignore the lump in his throat, the knot in his stomach. He didn’t like lying to Fred. It wasn’t something they did. He just wanted tonight to be over with. Hopefully after this Fred would never bring up the topic of FP’s living arrangements again, and they could go back to being happy carefree teenagers who occasionally made out but tried not to think about it too much. You know, a simpler life.

FP turned his attention back to Fred. “Well, I better get going. Thanks for the ride.” He had a grip on the handle, making a move to get out when suddenly there was a hand gripping his wrist, keeping him in place.

“Wait.” Fred had on that dopey lopsided grin that always left FP a little lightheaded. “Aren’t you forgetting something?” FP’s brows scrunched together in confusion, trying to place what exactly it was he was supposedly forgetting, aside from common sense or maybe a backbone. But then Fred was reaching over, hooking a finger into the collar of FP’s shirt to draw him in. The kiss was soft, chaste for their usual. Normally FP got completely lost in Fred’s lips, but tonight he found himself lost in the thought that this wouldn’t be happening if he was actually sitting out front his home, the possibility of his father peeking through the blinds and catching them was enough to put the fear of God in him.

But this wasn’t his home. And his father wasn’t inside. In fact, complete strangers were inside, if anyone was home at all. So he couldn’t go through the front door unless he wanted to get arrested for breaking and entering. And Fred, always the gentleman, wasn’t the type to drive off before seeing someone make it inside safe and sound.

FP pulled away abruptly, leaving Fred with the look of confusion now. “I forgot my keys.”

“What?”

“I just- I must’ve left them at Pop’s or something.”

“Do you want to go back and look for them?”

“No!” FP realized he answered way too quickly tried covering it up with a cough. Omitting truths was one thing, but when it came to actually lying, especially to someone he cared about, FP was a complete disaster. Normally that would’ve been a good thing but in his current warped state of mind FP couldn’t help but wish he was better at it. “No, it’s fine. I’m already here. I’ll just use the back door. We keep a spare key there. I’ll stop by Pop’s tomorrow.”

Fred slowly nodded his head, but he seemed like he was unsure. However, if he had any concerns he didn’t voice them. “Alright. We still hanging out?”

“Yeah, for sure.”

“Okay, good.” There was a smile on Fred’s face again. He looked… relieved. 

FP returned a small smile of his own. “Goodnight, Freddy.” He leaned over and pressed a kiss to the corner of Fred’s mouth. He could feel Fred’s smile get bigger.

“Goodnight, F,” Fred returned as FP made to exit the truck, for real this time. They gave each other one last look before FP sprinted off to the fence blocking off the backyard.

“Please nobody be home, please nobody be home, please nobody be home,” he kept repeating to himself as he unlatched the fence door and snuck through. The rain was still coming down in sheets as he huddled into the corner, the tiniest dry spot available out of view from any windows. He had to struggle to hear the truck, not tempting to leave before he was sure Fred was long gone.

He was sure he was gonna catch pneumonia, or at the very least one hell of a cold. Just what he fucking needed. Maybe it would be some type of karmic payback. He couldn’t really argue with that.

A few minutes went by before FP peeked through a crack in the fence to check if Fred had left. He had. FP took a deep breath and made his way back out to the front yard, securing the latch behind him as he did. He pulled his jacket tight around him, not that it would help much now that it was completely soaked along with the rest of him. He was freezing and hoped staying in motion would do something to warm him up despite the fact he was already shaking like a leaf. 

FP was always cold. He had started to think he just had winter in his bones. Maybe that’s what drew him to Fred. If FP was winter, Fred was summer. Fred was bright and warm, always full of energy. The complete opposite of FP. FP felt barren and frozen, had only really started thawing out when he met Fred. He thought sometimes that was too much to put on one person, not that he ever told any of this to Fred, but just knowing that he had subconsciously started to rest all his hopes and happiness onto the other boy… it seemed like a heartbreak waiting to happen.

At some point during his impromptu introspection it must have stopped raining. He wasn’t as cold anymore, but when he looked up and saw the sign for Sunnyside Trailer Park a shiver ran down his spine. He always thought the bastard who named this place must’ve had a sick sense of humor.

He finished the walk to his trailer, stopping on the steps to take a deep breath and steel himself. “Home sweet home,” he echoed from before, this time in a far more bitter tone.

\--

FP should’ve known better than to think this would all just blow over, that Fred wouldn’t turn the inch he was given into a mile.

The morning after, Fred thought he would be a good friend and stop by FP’s to drive him over to Pop’s to look for his missing house key. He was just trying to be generous. Little did he know it would blow up in his face.

He drove back to the exact house he had dropped FP off at the night before, he was sure of it. Sure, the neighborhood looked a little different in the light of day, but he could recall the directions FP gave him as clear as if it was happening in real time. So when he walked up to the front door and gave it a few knocks, a dark haired woman around his own mother’s age answering, he only felt validated.

“Hi, Mrs. Jones,” Fred greeted with his best parent-pleasing smile. “My name’s Fred Andrews. I’m FP’s friend.” Surely FP must’ve mentioned him at least once… “Can he come out?”

The woman just stared at him, completely puzzled. “I think you have the wrong house,” was all she said before retreating back into her home and making to close the door.

Fred was in motion before he could even process what he had just been told, reaching to put his hand on the door to stop her. “Wait!” He could see the startled look on the woman’s face and realized he was coming off way too aggressive. He quickly pulled his hand back and shoved both of them into his jacket pockets, hoping that made him seem like less of a threat. “I’m sorry, it’s just… Is this not the Jones residence?”

The woman had a look on her face that Fred guessed was somewhere between pity and annoyance, but he couldn’t tell which side she was leaning more towards, though she did seem to soften just a little as she took in a deep breath and exhaled. “Listen, kid, I don’t know if this is some kind of prank or if you’re the one having one pulled over on you, but there’s no one here named Jones or JP.”

“FP.”

“Whatever. He still doesn’t live here. Have a nice rest of your morning.” 

Fred called out a weak “I’m sorry” as the door was closed in his face.

Nothing about the interaction made any sense. Fred was _sure_ this was the house he dropped FP off at the night before. As he headed to the car he stopped and turned to give the house one last glance-over. He remembered FP walking through that exact fence… because he didn’t have his key… to get in the front door….

God, Fred was such an idiot sometimes. To be fair, he had been kissing FP as they sat outside the house, and kissing FP always left Fred more than a little distracted. If ever there was a time to lie to Fred and go undetected… But that right there was the problem. FP never lied to Fred. At least, that’s what Fred thought, but if he could so easily lie about something as big as where he _lived_ , going so far as to make up an entire house for Fred to take him to, maybe he didn’t know FP as well as he thought.

It set Fred on edge. He had no idea how he was supposed to broach this with FP. Should he confront him about it head on? Wait for FP to come around on his own and tell Fred the truth when he was ready? What if that never happened? Maybe they weren’t as close as Fred thought. Maybe FP only ever meant for this, whatever it was going on between them, to be a surface level thing, and Fred had stupidly gotten way too invested.

Fred finally got back into the truck and sat there for a minute gripping the steering wheel with both hands, resting his forehead on top of them. He felt like he just had his whole world flipped upside down and of course he still had plans to hang out later with FP. _If that’s even his real name,_ he thought to himself.

He took a deep breath, trying to regain some composure or sense of calm, and sat back up as he started the truck. He just needed to go home, lie down, and figure out what the hell he was supposed to do with this newfound knowledge.

\--

As planned, the boys spent the afternoon hanging out. FP had shown up on the Andrews’ doorstep sometime after noon, and when confronted about the missing house key from the night before and if he had been by Pop’s at all to check for it, FP had a convenient lie in place. 

_“Oh, yeah, turns out I never even had it on me. I left it in my room.”_

It was almost convincing. Except Fred knew the truth now, or at least some variation of it. He also couldn’t help but notice how FP didn’t, _wouldn’t,_ look him in the eye. God, he was a terrible liar. Fred just felt even more stupid for not having picked up on it before. He suddenly felt like his eyes were open to a whole new world, a whole new FP. How many times had FP lied straight to his face only for it to go completely unnoticed because Fred was too naive and blinded by his affections to see clearly?

He’d spent most of the afternoon trying to push his thoughts aside, tried convincing himself FP would open up when he was ready. It helped that FP was good at distracting, taking advantage of the fact Fred’s parents had left for the day. It wasn’t long before FP had Fred pinned down to his own bed, bodies writhing as FP licked and sucked and nibbled on that sweet spot just below Fred’s ear that always left him gasping for more. But every time Fred tried to let go and be in the moment, his eyes squeezing shut as a shiver of pleasure washed over him, he couldn’t help but hear a voice in the back of his mind whispering that this was all smoke and mirrors. He tried ignoring it, tried to will it away as he slipped his hands under FP’s shirt, nails scratching at skin maybe a little too rough, but it only seemed to spur FP on.

It wasn’t until FP’s hand was sliding down to the waistband of Fred’s jeans, deft fingers working to pop open his button, that all of the worry and questions stemming from his encounter that morning finally pushed their way to the forefront of Fred’s mind. His hand shot down to FP’s wrist, stopping him from going any further, and in a voice that was far more strained and way too timid for what he was going for he simply said “You lied to me.”

He could feel FP freeze above him, feel his whole body go tense. Fred almost regretted saying anything until FP pulled back to look down at him, and the look on his face alone confirmed Fred’s suspicions.

FP had been caught and he knew it, but the wheels were already turning in his mind trying to figure out an escape plan. Maybe he could charm his way out of it… “Freddie, what are you-”

“No! You’re not ‘Freddie’-ing your way out of this one.” Suddenly Fred’s voice held the sternness he was initially going for. “You lied to me last night.” He pushed FP off to the side so he could sit up and folded his arms across his chest. “Whose house even was that?”

“How did you even- were you spying on me?”

“ _That’s_ your argument? Did I _spy_ on you?” Fred felt like his eyes were going to pop out of his skull. “Jesus, FP, I went over this morning to see if you wanted a ride to Pop’s! You know, to look for that missing house key of yours? I was trying to be helpful!”

FP scoffed and got off the bed, searching around for his jacket. “Yeah, you’re so fucking helpful aren’t you, Fred?”

“What the hell does that mean?”

FP found his jacket and shoved it on, turning back around to face Fred. “It means you never know when to quit! Keep your nose out of people’s business. _My_ business.”

There was a pit growing in Fred’s stomach. He’d never seen FP this angry before, never expected to have it aimed toward _him._ Part of him wanted to call a time-out, a do-over, anything, but there was another part that was too stubborn to back down. An anger had already built up inside him and it wasn’t going away until he got the answers he was looking for. “Like hell it’s just your business! You’re the one who dragged me into it!”

“Because you never shut the hell up about it!” A heavy silence fell between them. Fred looked at FP with wide eyes, mouth agape like he wanted to argue back but couldn’t think of anything to say, too shocked or hurt or both to come up with anything witty enough to sting. They were two trains headed for collision and if they kept playing this game of chicken they were bound to crash. Maybe the carnage was inevitable, but FP wasn’t ready to face it just yet. “Just let it go, Fred,” he sighed, rubbing a hand over his face and through his hair. He headed towards the window, his usual entrance and exit, and called over his shoulder “I’ll see you at school or whatever.”

FP was halfway out the window before Fred got himself together enough to speak again. “No,” he said more to himself than anything. “No! You do not get to just walk away from this!” And then he was on his feet, sprinting to the window to pull FP back into the room. They landed on the floor with a thud, FP on top of him not entirely unlike before, just with a vastly different mood. 

It was a shock to both their systems at first, but it wasn’t long before they were full on wrestling each other, FP starting it off with a shove to Fred’s chest as he tried to get up. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“You’re the one keeping secrets!” Fred was now the one on top. He had put FP in a headlock and flipped them over. “You say you’re not embarrassed of me, so what else could it possibly be that you had to sell me some fake story about a fake house in a fake neighborhood with a fake family that you hoped I would just never find out about!”

“Just let it go, Fred!”

“No!” They were a tangle of limbs on the floor, knocking in to one other trying to gain dominance but neither wanting to come to full blows, though there was the occasional elbow to the side and fists pounding against chests. Even in the heat of battle they’d never wanted to actually hurt each other. “Just tell me the truth, FP! Please.” Fred was breathless. All the fight had left him as he slumped back to the floor and looked up at FP with pleading eyes.

Everything halted. FP sat frozen, legs planted firmly on either side of Fred’s body, caging him in. His hands were wrapped tight around Fred’s wrists, floating in the space between them where their heavy breathing intermingled. The desperation in Fred’s voice was enough to stop FP dead in his tracks. He knew this had to be it. The turning point. “You want the truth?” His defenses were up, eyes suddenly going hard. Fred simply nodded, though there seemed to be what FP perceived as fear trickling through his features.

FP let go of Fred’s wrists maybe a little too aggressively and climbed off him. He sat with his back to the wall, facing Fred, but wouldn’t look at him. His knees were pulled up to his chest and he wrapped his arms around them like some sort of comfort blanket. “I don’t live on this side of town.” He kept his voice quiet and his jaw clenched. “I don’t live in some fancy house with a yard and white picket fence, and I sure as hell don’t have a nice family waiting for me.”

“F-” Fred had sat up and tried reaching out to FP, who just flinched away, still refusing to make eye contact, but Fred could see the haunted look on his face. 

“I’m South Side trash, born and raised. That’s who I am. That’s who I’ll always be.” FP sniffed, trying his best to keep the tears at bay as he repeated the words his father had aimed at him so many times before. He wasn’t about to start crying now. He was embarrassed enough as it was putting himself on display like this. He wasn’t about to give Fred another reason to pity him. “So there’s your truth. I’m not some North Side golden boy and I was delusional thinking I could ever pass for one.” FP angrily swept at the corner of his eyes before pushing himself up onto his feet. The room suddenly felt too small and there wasn’t enough air. He needed to get the hell out of there. He walked back to the window, this time pausing to take a last look at Fred. “Look, I know this changes everything now and I don’t blame you if want nothing to do with me anymore but… can you just promise not to say anything?”

“No.” FP’s brows scrunched together, his mouth opening in protest but Fred was up and speaking before he had a chance. “I mean yes, of course I won’t say anything, but this doesn’t change anything between us.”

“Don’t be stupid, Fred-”

“Don’t call me stupid! Why does this have to change anything?” Fred argued as he moved to close the space between them.

“Oh, come on, Fred. You know everyone in this town has their prejudices. On both sides. You think your parents would let you hang out with me if they knew the truth? I can already see it now, the South Side street urchin getting blamed for corrupting Riverdale’s sweetheart.”

“I think you’re being a little dramatic…”

“Am I? You’ve got this whole town wrapped around your finger, Fred. And I hear how your dad talks about the South Side. I’m not dumb. He’d have a heart attack if he knew how close you’d gotten to it.”

“Well, it’s none of his business.” Fred took a step closer. “You’re my friend. You’re more than my friend. You’re-” He paused, a sudden thickness in the air developing as FP stared at him, dark eyes big and searching for the end of that thought. A hundred words were on the tip of Fred’s tongue, but he was too afraid to say any of them, so in the end he settled on “You’re important to me,” but even that seemed to carry enough weight.

“Fred…” FP’s voice was just above a whisper. 

Fred looked down at the minimal space between them, reaching his hand out to take FP’s, letting his fingers trace along FP’s palm. “I don’t care what my dad or anyone in this town has to say about you or where you come from.” He paused to take a deep breath and reached out his other hand to tilt FP’s chin up so they could lock eyes. Fred needed him to know how serious he was about what he had to say next. “You are so much more than whatever bullshit labels this town puts on you. And I want to know every part of you because I- I think I could love every part of you. If you let me.”

FP’s breath hitched, his eyes searching Fred’s for some sign that this was a joke or an all too realistic dream he was about to wake up from. “Don’t say things you don’t mean, Freddie.”

“I mean it, FP. I love you. I-” Fred was cut off by FP’s lips crashing against his own. The hand holding FP’s chin instinctively snuck around to the nape of his neck, fingers curling into hair like they never wanted to let go. 

It had been years since FP heard those three little words, hadn’t been spoken to him since before his mom died. There was a part of him not so deep down that hated how easily those words affected him, how his entire resolve could crumble at the mere suggestion they could be true, and _God_ he wanted it to be true. He could let himself believe it with this kiss, with the way Fred was breathing him in like he was oxygen. Their fingers had slotted perfectly together like puzzle pieces, and FP used his free hand to grip firmly onto Fred’s waist. He was sure he was squeezing so tight he’d leave bruises, but Fred didn’t complain, only moved to flush their bodies impossibly closer. FP made a mental note to kiss them better later anyway.

They finally pulled apart for no other reason than they needed air. Their foreheads rested against each other, both of them wanting to remain in each other’s space. FP was the first to break the silence. “I love you, too, you know. It’s why I was so afraid to say anything. Thought it’d send you running for the hills.”

“You can’t scare me away that easy.” Fred cupped FP’s cheek, his thumb rubbing soothingly across the skin. 

“Sounds like a challenge.” FP smirked but Fred remained serious, holding on to FP’s face so he had to look at him.

“Don’t do that. You’re allowed to have good things, F. You deserve them just as much as anyone else.”

FP licked his lips and nodded his head. A beat passed before he spoke again. “You know we’ve got everything working against us. Two boys from opposite sides of the track? People’s heads would explode.” He tried to play it off a joke but there was a sinking feeling in his gut over how true his words were. The universe wasn’t on their side. Nothing about this was supposed to work.

“To hell with everybody else.” And there Fred was, always anchoring FP. “This relationship is ours, not theirs.”

A smile tugged at the corner of FP’s lips. “We in a relationship now?”

“If that’s what you want…”

FP looked down at their hands which were still intertwined, and he knew with absolute certainty it’s what he wanted. There was a fear that came along with it, though. He knew that to make this work they needed absolute transparency. No more lying, no more deception. FP had to be an open book, and that terrified him. He’d never allowed himself to be that open with anyone, always too afraid it would end in disaster, but no matter what self-destructive thoughts came creeping around trying to get him to doubt it, FP couldn’t picture a world where Fred Andrews betrayed that trust. If ever there was a person FP could give himself completely to, Fred was it.

So this was it. The final jump. A promise to himself that he’d let Fred know anything and everything. Because this was the boy he loved, and the boy who loved him back. 

He squeezed Fred’s hand and pulled him in to another searing kiss and against his lips he whispered “It’s what I want.”


End file.
